Another year for the prophet

rivningshus

The smell of grilled meat is finding its way inside the house, the sun is high in the sky shining with its warm yellow shine and the neighbors are playing Rihanna’s “shine bright like a diamond”. The whole neighborhood is sleepy. In the kiosk earlier today the owner was only half awake as I entered, and later it turned out he speaks way better English than I French. That’s probably the reason for all the smiles he has given me during the week.
Anyway. Today is the birthday of the prophet Mohammed; a day to remember the Prophet.

I spent the afternoon with my friend Rabia in her home. We walked around the neighborhood and talked about Mauritania. Some of the neighbors live in traditional tents and not far away there’s a lot of small houses and tents in a large area. “The government is going to remove all these,” Rabia said and pointed at the homes. “They will put them somewhere else in another part of the city far away from here.”
“I saw the same thing in Nouadhibou last year, a friend told me that they had removed all the small houses and put the people living there outside the city instead.” I said.
“Yes, they do that. The government wants the cities to only have proper houses, like those there,” she said and looked at the houses on the other side of the road.

This country could need a good social care I believe. It shouldn’t be allowed to treat the citizens this way; to move them because they make the town look dirty in their eyes.

All the best on the birthday of the prophet Mohammed. Tonight will be a night with rest for my part.

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